Vägmärken
by stormfieldtwain
Summary: Four years after the supposedly "final" battle at Hogwarts Voldemort is still alive and gathering followers. Hermione happens upon a familiar face lying near-dead on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. The war changes everyone, and now everyone has a past, particularly Draco Malfoy. The Order is thrown into anger and vengeance, hunting those that once hunted them. Dramione.


Draco Malfoy appeared with a faint _crack! _onto the uneven cobblestone of Diagon Alley. He felt a tear in his torso and heard the sound of skin ripping. _Fuck_, he thought, he'd gone and splinched himself. He staggered, white spots appearing in his vision. He touched his shirt, took out his hand, found it covered in blood, and he fell to the ground. He couldn't feel the pain. All he saw were the soulless eyes of his parents. He was alone. Dying here was his best hope. His vision blurred then faded into black as his breathing shallowed.

_Merlin. What on earth am I going to do? _Hermione thought, flustered. Ron and Harry were out with the Order, and she just happened upon a dying Malfoy. She'd brought him to her muggle flat in Edinburgh, and healed him as best she could. She couldn't give him much to replenish his blood without his consciousness to cooperate. He was a mess, and with her eyes shut, she flicked her wand to strip him, clean him, and change him. She sat in her small kitchen table, head in her hands. Then she heard a cough. She got up quickly and went to his side as he lay on her couch. Malfoy slowly opened his eyes, and found a pair of pretty brown eyes warmly staring into his own steely grey.

"Granger?" He muttered hoarsely. "Christ…don't tell me you died too? Shame."

Hermione looked at him, perplexed. Did he think she was dead?

"Malfoy…" she began softly. But he seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

"Mudblood Granger…" he murmured, making Hermione rigged. She almost told him off until she heard the rest of what he had to say. "At least it's your face I'm seeing. You were always the prettiest girl at school…I liked how you walked…how your face would screw up in concentration whenever you were in the library, reading a book. I'm sorry I never got to tell you how pretty you were…_are._" And he reached out a weak arm to her face, tracing her jawline with his fingertips.

"M-Malfoy..this isn't a dream. You're alive, but you're weak. I found you in Diagon Alley. I tried to…" Hermione meant to explain everything, but her voice faded and became intelligible once Malfoy realized he'd just confessed slight attractions to her. Then it hit him. He was alive, and his parents were not. Malfoy Manor was destroyed, set siege to. He suddenly sat up, wincing at the pain, and pulled Hermione towards him into a hug. She gasped lightly. _What on earth is he doing_? _Has he gone insane?_ But she was so beautiful and warm, he couldn't let go of her. She saved his life.

"Granger." He pulled away, resting his arms on her shoulders. She looked confused and slightly mortified. He stared into her eyes.

"Stop." Hermione stared at him fiercely. His expression was innocent, and laden with… Is that what guilt looks like on Malfoy? She waved her wand over him. "_Finite Incantatem." _She paused and stared with a bated breath. Then a sneer blatantly appeared onto Malfoy's face, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He, however, chuckled and touched a finger to her cheek, stilling her again.

"I wasn't under any _Imperio _curse or _Confundus _charm, Hermione. I can guarantee that if you're comfortable with my being a downright twat, I'd be more than happy to strut about and do so. This war has… changed my perspective on certain things." But then his expression darkened something somber, and Hermione had an urge to kiss his pale, chapped lips as he attempted to gather all of the little strength he had left. He sucked in a deep breath.

"Anyway, I better get going. Thanks for everything, Granger." He got up from the couch, attempting to hide the searing pain. He looked down and saw that his gash had reopened a little, seeping a slight bit of blood on the shirt Hermione had dressed him in. He looked up at her widening eyes, but tried to smile nonchalantly. Before he could twist on his heel, she shouted at him.

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _and he fell to the body bind curse, landing back onto the couch. "I can't let you go anywhere," she murmured, wrapping blankets all around him. She began to speak faster, "It's not safe for you outside of my flat. Rogue Death Eaters have gone mad…they're fighting for power. Ron, Harry, and the rest of the order are stuck trying to round them up. You're nowhere near healed enough. You'll only splinch yourself more and I won't be there to save you." She paused, drawing a deep breath as she looked into his frozen eyes. "You're right, Malfoy. The war changes people. I wouldn't have looked twice at you before…I'm going to put an anti-disapparition charm on this flat. And the door won't let you out, nothing will. No one can find you either, it's under the Fidelius charm. I'll undo the body-bind curse. But you really have no means of escape, so you might as well get comfortable and just sleep." She waved her wand.

Gasping, Malfoy grabbed her wrist. "Don't leave me here alone, then." His steel grey eyes bore into hers. She could tell he was genuinely frightened.

"I won't." she whispered. "Get some sleep." And with that, she left for her room, waving her wand to turn off the lights. Malfoy looked up, mesmerized at the ceiling. It was bewitched, much like the Great Hall at Hogwarts had been. But this ceiling reflected the Universe – star masses and galaxies and meteors and planets. He watched in awe until he fell asleep, absentmindedly wishing upon a shooting star just as his eyelids closed.

The cozy and comforting smell of coffee came wafting up Draco's nostrils. His eyes fluttered open, only to see a pair of big, solid brown eyes staring back at him, just like last night, only less darkened. They were brighter, but the color remained true. For some reason, he liked it. He liked that her eyes were the purest brown he'd ever seen. Not a ghost of gold or tawny within them. They gave an air of solidity, loyalty, and warmth. Promises made to be kept.

"…especially since you're still very delirious-" Hermione seemed to be speaking quietly to him, explaining something. But he was phasing in and out of coherency as violent, jarring images of a fortnight's events began to flood his mind.

"Erm, Draco? Are you alright?" he heard Hermione ask tentatively. But he didn't respond, at least, not out loud. _No, I'm not alright, _he thought._ Everything, gone. Everything. _He began sinking back into the couch Hermione managed to transfigure into a bed sometime while he was asleep. He closed his eyes shut, deciding he'll wait until night to come, and then he'd figure out a way past Hermione's wards. He couldn't burden her with himself. _When did I turn into such a sentimental prat?_ _Oh, right. While I was out hunting muggles and muggle-borns, befriending them and then torturing them to death as their eyes remained open with the burning look of betrayal. _But he shrugged off her question and became all too bitter.

"Am I going to get some of that coffee, or what?" he asked her. She looked taken aback at his sudden harshness, so different from the night before. She handed him a mug.

"Is- is there anything else I could get you?" she murmured quietly, staring at the floor.

"Not unless it's something I've already lost." At that, Malfoy stood up and walked slowly to her wide window, taking up the space of a wall that faced the streets outside. He observed the muggles bustling about the street below him. "Look at them. The lot of them," he snarled. "We fought a war and lost our loved ones because of a maniac who wanted some Pureblood regime where all those stupid muggles would be in their "rightful place" and what do we get? We deal with the reparations. We're the ones with the magic and we're out there protecting them. Now, there they go prancing around with all those stupid smiles on their faces. Pathetic." Malfoy took a sip of his coffee as Hermione rose to stand next to him.

"They think they lost their loved ones just by happenchance. We watched ours die and knew exactly what they were fighting for," she whispered.

"Ignorance is fucking bliss," he spat. He took another sip. There was a short pause before Hermione touched her fingertips to his jawline, and gently pulled his face towards hers. They met each other's gaze before she went on her tiptoes and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Her lips lingered on his cool, pale skin before she stepped back on her heels, massaging the same spot on his cheek with her thumb.

"Not always," she mumbled quietly, "you're living proof of that fact." Before he could open his mouth to speak, there was a light _pop! _from a portkeyand she was gone. He rested his palm on his cheek, still warm from her gentleness.

The winters around number 13 Grimmauld Place had brought snow upon the neighborhood. As Hermione approached the tall, looming apartment building, she pulled the ends of her scarf, tightening its wrap around her neck. Taking a deep breath, she climbed up the stoop to a building that had only recently come into visibility. She opened the door and walked slowly into the dark of the entrance hall.

"Kreacher, what the bloody hell did you do?"

"Kreacher has gotten rid of the nuisance, your ginger sir-"

"I'd meant what the hell you'd done to yourself! You're half cooked!"

"Well, of course there was dark magic-"

"You didn't bother to think of asking for help?" Ron looked horrified at the small, wrinkly old house-elf in front of him, pitiful in the large brightened kitchen. He took the burned remains of the painting from Kreacher and dumped them in the trash. He then pivoted and pointed at the poor elf.

"Right, we're sticking you in a bath of Wiggenweld's, that's what we're going to do. Come on-"

"Umph!" Kreacher was wrenched from the ground by Ron and warily carried upstairs. Before Ron had gotten to the first landing, however, he'd heard movement in the dark hallway lined by house-elf heads. He set Kreacher on the steps.

"Be quiet, and get Harry. Go!" He whispered.

As soon as he let the elf go, Ron pulled out his wand and pointed to the shadows below. He watched Kreacher climbing to the second landing, stumbling from his injuries, and turning into a room. Once the elf had disappeared, Ron flicked his wand.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

_ "Protego!"_

At the sound of her voice, Ron immediately dropped his wand and let the rebound of his curse hit him. He was paralyzed instantly and came crashing down the stairs.

"Shit, Ron!" Hermione came out of the shadows and quickly cast the counter curse over his body. "Ron, I'm so sorry, I could've easily dodged the curse, I just had no idea-"

"Hermione!" Ron gasped as his limbs came to life again. She had a sudden sense of de-ja-vu, and her mind briefly wandered to her unexpected guest back at home. "Oh, Hermione, it's so good to see you." Ron, oblivious to Hermione's fleeting flashback, pulled her down to the floor with him in a bone crushing hug that had her choking.

"Crap, sorry." And Ron let her go. Standing, he turned up to the third floor landing and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Oi! You two! Get down here, we've got a visitor!"

Hermione could barely make out the shape of the person coming through the bedroom upstairs. Whoever the person was, they were big, and lumpy. It wasn't until the person was under the large chandelier out on the landing that she could see it was Harry, except…

"He's in a wheelchair.." she whispered. "Ron, why is Harry in a wheelchair?" Turning to Ron, who was watching carefully as Kreacher snapped his fingers, elevating Harry and his wheelchair so that they could descend the stairs with furrowed eyebrows, Hermione tried again. "Ron, why-"

"Don't worry about it, Hermione." Harry had finally steered himself in front of her. "St. Mungo's is already working on something for it. Why'd you come over here if you didn't know we'd be around?" He asked, leading the two of them into the kitchen.

"I had a bit of a situation, and was hoping someone was here." Hermione replied, waving her wand to pull up chairs for the two of them (since Harry simply rolled himself to the table). Ron, however, left the room for a couple minutes only to come back levitating Kreacher in a metal basin of Wiggenweld's. He set Kreacher and his basin on the table and as Ron sat down, Kreacher snapped and pushed his chair in. Hermione had never seen the two get along so well without Ron taking advantage of Kreacher's servitude.

"What kind of situation are we talking about?" Harry asked as soon as Ron was with them. Ron's stomach grumbled, and Kreacher's eyes lit up.

"Missus Granger, Kreacher has forgotten his manners! He must get food at once-"

"Oh no you don't!" Ron interceded. "Keep talking, Hermy, I'll get us some food." The two of them had accustomed to calling her Hermy, adapting the nickname after Grawp's death. Hermione, now thoroughly perplexed, shook her head and continued.

"I was at Diagon Alley because I had a meeting with Tom. He said the place hasn't been bothered too much lately, a minor skirmish here and there but the Death Eaters never stay. He wanted me to check Knockturn Alley, as there was talk of someone odd lurking there. Before I could turn the corner, however, I found…I erm…"

"What? What did you find?" asked Ron as he set down full dinner plates before them. Ron had eventually acquired his mother's magical cooking skills, and had been in charge of food since. He'd felt it necessary as he was constantly reminded of the soup Hermione tried to cook with wild mushrooms while they were on their Horcrux hunt.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. On the ground, dying. He'd splinched himself," she answered quietly.

Harry looked stricken. "Where is he now, Hermione?" He held her gaze, already knowing the answer.  
"He's at my flat." She said quietly. Ron slammed his fist on the table.

"At your flat? Hermione, no one else knows where your flat is, not even us! We're all Keepers for our own private homes, and you bring Malfoy there?"

"He doesn't know where it is, Ronald! I've casted wards and an anti-apparition jinx. He can't even touch the door without being electrocuted into unconsciousness for several hours - do you really think I'd be that daft?" she ground out, exasperated. She stared at him fervently. The reddening of his ears had died down, and he looked away, spooning a mouthful of soup into his mouth.

"Sofry." He grumbled, his mouth full.

Hermione held her head in her hands and watched Harry, who was sitting pensively.

"Harry?" she asked.

"What condition is he in right now, Hermione?" he asked quietly.

Hermione played with her food. "He can barely walk. He nearly spliced in half, were it any deeper. It's a good thing I've learned so much from Professor Pomfry… while she was here. Otherwise, he'd be dead by now."

"So what do we do? Take away his wand and lock him up until he gets better? Then just let him run free and wreak havoc?" blurted Ron.

"He's not the same. He tried to leave my flat before I could really do anything for him. He said _thank you._ Voldemort killed his parents just the other night, I think. I casted _Legilimens _on him when he was asleep. I didn't completely invade his mind… I just tried to see what happened. They were tortured. I don't really know why."

"Then whatever happens, be on your guard." Harry said sourly. "Don't take away his wand. Malfoy knows his magic by now, and if anything happens, he knows he owes you and will probably protect you."

"He's still a slimy git,"

"Ronald!"

"Both of you, quiet!" Harry hissed. "Do you hear that? At first I thought it was just the wind, but it's getting a bit louder. I think someone's trying to get in."

There was a tapping noise against the bricks near the front door that was quickly becoming more urgent. The entire apartment shook, and the tapping stopped.

"Someone's trying to rip apart the Fidelius Charm. One of us must have been seen in the area." Harry whispered. Hermione nodded, and Ron plucked Kreacher out of the basin. Kreacher ran to Harry's side for side-along apparition due to Harry's condition, and the three of them got ready to apparate to their portkey locations.

Hermione stood still in the silence, barely breathing. "They're probably going around the whole block, trying to find the building. I just thought they'd have noticed the missing-"

There was a loud bang and Hermione quickly swept her wand in a wide flourish, performing a powerful vanishing charm upon the entire household. Nothing in the house was left except for the three friends and the house-elf. They nodded to each other, silently agreeing to finish their conversations another time, each disapparating as the house shook and the door was blasted open.


End file.
